Friday, April 24, 2015

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Rwandan Genocide Against The Tutsi. 20th Anniversary

The Rwandan Genocide was a genocidal mass slaughter of Tutsi and moderate Hutu in Rwanda by members of the Hutu majority. During the approximate 100-day period from April 7, 1994 to mid-July, an estimated 500,000–1,000,000 Rwandans were killed, constituting as much as 20% of the country's total population and 70% of the Tutsi then living in Rwanda. The genocide was planned by members of the core political elite known as the akazu, many of whom occupied positions at top levels of the national government. Perpetrators came from the ranks of the Rwandan army, the National Police (gendarmerie), government-backed militias including the Interahamwe and Impuzamugambi, and the Hutu civilian population.
On April 6, 1994, an airplane carrying Habyarimana and Burundian president Cyprien Ntaryamira was shot down on its descent into Kigali, killing all on board. Genocidal killings began the following day: soldiers, police and militia quickly executed key Tutsi and moderate Hutu leaders, then erected checkpoints and barricades and used Rwandans' national identity cards to systematically verify their ethnicity and kill Tutsi. These forces recruited or pressured Hutu civilians to arm themselves with machetes, clubs, blunt objects and other weapons to rape, maim and kill their Tutsi neighbors and destroy or steal their property. The breach of the peace agreement led the RPF to restart their offensive and rapidly seize control of the northern part of the country before capturing Kigali in mid-July, bringing an end to the genocide.
The United Nations and countries including the United States, Great Britain and Belgium were criticized for their inaction, including failure to strengthen the force and mandate of the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) peacekeepers, while observers criticized the government of France for alleged support of the genocidal regime after the genocide had begun.

Juvenal Habyarimana was a member of the MRND (National Republican Movement for Democracy and Development) the third President of the Republic of Rwanda, the post he held longer than any other president to date, from 1973 until 1994. He was nicknamed "Kinani", a Kinyarwanda word meaning "invincible".
National Republican Movement for Democracy and Development. The MRND was the ruling political party of Rwanda from 1975 to 1994 under President Juvénal Habyarimana. It was dominated by Hutus, particularly from President Habyarimana's home region of Northern Rwanda. (wiki)
Note: In the past couple of years I have had the pleasure to become friends with several young men who immigrated to the U.S. from Rwanda. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was for the most part unaware of the horrors that occurred in Rwanda in 1994. I'm trying to make up for my lack of knowledge now, twenty years later. The atrocities witnessed during not only that 100 day period but the days, months and years afterward are far beyond mine or most peoples comprehension. I'm proud to call these young men my friends. I hope people take the time to learn about one of the most horrific events in modern history. It's not easy.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Message to Putin.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Saturday, December 7, 2013

A Friday on the highway.


Tuesday, November 12, 2013

a superb meteor

“I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”
― Jack London

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Collin Hopkins A.U. Rugby

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Saturday, September 28, 2013

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

 Percy Bysshe Shelley (4 August 1792 – 8 July 1822) was one of the major English Romantic poets and is regarded by critics as among the finest lyric poets in the English language. A radical in his poetry as well as his political and social views, Shelley did not achieve fame during his lifetime, but recognition for his poetry grew steadily following his death. Shelley was a key member of a close circle of visionary poets and writers that included Lord Byron; Leigh Hunt; Thomas Love Peacock; and his own second wife, Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein.
Who knew?

Monday, September 2, 2013


Come on down and dance,
If you get the chance,
We're gonna steal on arrival.
All I wanna know,
Is how far you wanna go,
Fighting for survival.

Underneath the stars,
Where we parked the cars,
Ain't showing signs of stopping.
Pretty little girls,
Naked to their curves,
Ready to let the car run.
If you wanna go,
I'm gonna go,
I gotta fire burning.
Come on take my hand,
Hope you see your man,
Baby's gonna be a weird one.
Baby's gonna be a weird one.

If you see the lights,
and we hear the fights,
It's gonna be a stunner.
I've got something here,
If you give me one more beer,
I'm gonna call a runner.
I don't want to say,
What I have to say,
If I'm a' kicking off now.
If you wanna go,
I'm gonna go,
I'm going back down southbound.
I'm going back down southbound.
I'm going back down southbound.

If you wanna go,
I'm going back down southbound.
Go on take my hand,
I'm going back down southbound.
Wait 'til you see the light,
And we hear those fights,
I'm going back down southbound.
I don't want to know,
How far you wanna go,
I'm going back down southbound.

I'm going back down southbound.
I'm going back down southbound.
I'm going back down southbound.
I'm going back down southbound.
Oh, yeah.
Kings of Leon



Don't worry. The future is straight ahead.


Wednesday, July 10, 2013






Friday, June 7, 2013


consistent. Not conservative.

                               S. monkey


Tuesday, May 7, 2013


"It ain't always what you don't know that hurts you... Sometimes it's what you think you know, that just ain't so, that screws you up..."

S. Monkey

Saturday, April 13, 2013


Saturday, April 6, 2013

You must go and you must ramble
through every brier and bramble
till your life is in a shambles
maybe then you'll know
you were born to blunder
born to wander, born to wonder
even when your six feet under
there's place
that you must go

John Hiatt

ايران جديدة. نأمل...

"Box of Bullets"

First of all, before I begin let me say that I will never admit the validity of this short. Mostly to protect the embarrassed. It all started one hot summer morning around 1968 or 1969 I'm not sure which. I was a young little monkey enjoying the summer and all it's adventures when there was a knock on our back door on that morning of great fate. My Mom was in the kitchen and I was watching T.V. in the living room when She said " Monkey, It's your friend Tim " [we'll say his name was Tim.] Well the only Tim I knew was one of my friends older brothers of about two years or so. It couldn't be that Tim, the heavens wouldn't bless me with such a visitor as he. But they did. " Hey Screaming Monkey, wanna do something"? "Boy do I!" I probably replied. Now let me explain, having my friends older brother come to my house to see if I wanted to play would be the equivalent of having George Clooney knock on my door right now to see if I wanted to go get a cup of coffee somewhere. I was star struck! We went out the back door of our"wonder years ranch house"and started kicking around things to do. We could go play in the woods behind my house which was what we usually did to find adventure or we could walk around the back yard until we had a better idea. My backyard was pretty big. It was house level for about thirty feet or so then there was a four or five foot rock wall which led to the higher and larger area of our yard. That upper level probably stretched back about one hundred feet or so to the tree line of the vast woods that lay behind my house. We ended up just walking around kicking things until we found ourselves looking into the 55 gallon drum my Dad used to burn wood or garbage or whatever, in the far back corner of the yard. It was still smoldering from the night before so we quickly put some small pieces of wood in it and before long we had it roaring ! At some point we started wondering what else we could stick in it for fun when Tim said, "I wonder what would happen If we put a bullet in it? "Only one way to find out" I said. [Or words to that effect.] I know where we can find a whole "box of bullets". I ran down to our basement and unlocked my Dads gun case which was pretty easy because he always left the key sticking out of the lock. I grabbed a box of 22 longs and ran out the back door eager to impress my guest. I promptly dropped the entire box in the fire and we ran laughing and giggling all the way to a log on the other side of the yard and dove behind it "combat style"! Did I mention that we were incredibly stupid ? Anyway after a few minutes one of the bullets cooked off. Then another, then another until we figured out that it might be a good idea if we counted them as they went off. This was after maybe twenty or so had already "cooked off" but better late than never, I always say. Finally after being "pinned down" for fifteen minutes or so and not hearing anymore " bangs" Tim thought he would make his assault on the drum. I on the other hand stayed low having just had a vivid image of a bullet piercing my forehead. Tim thought in his twelve year old library of wisdom that if he moved up on the drum sideways he would then become a smaller target for the drum to aim at. Brilliant ! He had closed on the enemy position to a distance of about ten feet when CRACK ! Another one went off. Here is where things get a little foggy, but I remember Tim instantly grabbing his crotch and letting out a yelp ! that could only be described as the sound a wounded coyote would making while falling off a cliff. He pulled his hands away from the "fellas" and they were instantly covered in blood. Neither of us had any doubt that the bullet had blown his privates off. The next thing I remember was running in our back door to show my unsuspecting Mother our handy work. "Tim's been shot" I screamed. She pulled down Tim's pants right there in the kitchen and made her diagnoses. I learned in that instant that my Mom was either incredibly fearless or completely nuts. Later in life I would definitively learn which but that's another story. "It just nicked his testicle!!" she said, grabbing Tim's hand and pulling him out the front door and home to his own mother would no doubt be equally surprised that her son had been wounded that morning. I went straight to my room and enacted the first "self grounding" ever performed in the U.S. to that date. It turns out the bullet went in on one side of his twelve year old "bulge" if you will, then traveled behind the zipper of his jeans nicking said body part, then the bullet made a second exit hole on the other side of his zipper. The bullet then most likely flew over my head missing me by inches. I would see Tim about twenty years later at a party where I asked him if he remembered that fateful day. He gave me a strange look and said "no". Tim never married.

S. Monkey

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Sunday, March 24, 2013

If a man is called to be a streetsweeper...

If a man is called to be a streetsweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the host of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well.—Martin Luther King